And she was left alone again. Although she understood that she was low priority for the medical staff, Daisy wished someone would let her know she was free to go, so she could track down Chris and see with her own eyes that he really was okay. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she felt his arms around her again.
When the curtain moved, she looked up, expecting her dad, but a strange man entered instead. Daisy stiffened, and he apparently saw her unease, judging from the way he lifted his hands, palms out, as if to show he wasn’t a threat.
“Daisy Little?” he asked.
As she nodded, she watched him warily. He wasn’t a big man, but he exuded authority. His dark hair was tidy and his clothes neat, although fairly casual.
“I’m Paul Strepple.” He didn’t reach out to shake her hand, and Daisy was grateful for that. Still uncertain of him, she definitely didn’t want to touch him yet. “Investigator with the Colorado BCA.”
Pulling his ID out of his pocket, he held it out to her. Although she wouldn’t know authentic BCA identification from something created by a five-year-old forger, Daisy examined it closely. “Because of the circumstances, we’ve been charged with investigating.”
“Weren’t you already?” she asked, remembering Chris telling her about the state’s involvement in the Willard Gray case.
“We’d been assisting,” he said, returning his ID to his pocket. “We’ll be heading up the investigation from this point on.”
She nodded, waiting for his questions. It didn’t take long. He asked about the usual personal information—full name, date of birth, address—and then he paused, eyeing her closely.
“So, Ms. Little. What happened tonight?”
Her inhale was slightly shaky, and it rasped against her aching throat. She really did not want to relive the evening, but it had to be done. Mentally pulling up her big-girl panties, she told the investigator what had happened, starting from the sheriff’s phone call to Chris and ending with the two deputies’ entrance.
“Gas leak?” he asked when she’d finished, so she backtracked and explained about her malfunctioning stove and Tyler’s quick exit after he’d been alone in her kitchen. “And what did Tyler mean about you seeing his father with King?”
“I’m guessing that the sheriff was the guy I saw hauling the dead body to his SUV,” she said.
Strepple’s eyes bulged, showing surprise—or any emotion, really—for the first time since his arrival. “You saw Robert Coughlin moving King’s body?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know it was him.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “I didn’t know it was definitely a dead body, either. The boot falling out of the tarp made me suspicious, though.”
Closing his eyes for a moment, Strepple said with exaggerated calm, “Why don’t you go back to the beginning and tell me exactly what you saw.”
Daisy did, adding the sheriff’s odd behavior toward her. In the middle of her retelling, Gabe stuck his head around the curtain.
“You okay, Daisy?” he asked, eyeing the investigator with suspicion.
“Fine. Thanks, Dad.” She smiled at him with an effort, so tired that even lifting the corners of her mouth was a struggle. “Did you find Chris?”
“Sort of. He’s getting X-rays, so I found out his general location, but I haven’t seen him myself.” After another glance at Strepple, he turned back to Daisy. “I’m going to run to the cafeteria and grab some food. Want anything?”
Too tired to be hungry, she shook her head and gave him a small wave before he disappeared again. With a silent sigh, she picked up her statement where she’d left off.
“So neither the sheriff’s department nor the fire department had reports on these arsons?” He seemed more bothered by this than the murder. Apparently, missing paperwork was the ultimate crime.
“That’s right.” Daisy swallowed back a yawn. “Ian has his own copies of the calls he went on. It’s not all of them, but it’s a start.”
“Thank you. I’ll ask him.” Since Strepple looked like he was preparing to leave, she assumed the interview was almost over.
“Wait,” Daisy said, and he looked over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. “Did Tyler burn down Lou’s cabin, too, or was that really her stalker?”
“Lou’s cabin?” Strepple squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in pain before turning back toward Daisy. “Why don’t you start at the beginning with that one, too?”
By the time she’d finished telling the investigator everything she knew about the Coughlins’ crimes and possible additional wrongdoing, another forty minutes had passed.
“Thank you, Ms. Little.” Strepple moved toward the curtain, looking determined to leave that time. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Have you talked to Chris yet?”
“Not yet,” he told her without pausing. “I’m going to do that now.”
“Oh!” Hopping off the padded table, she hurried after him. “Can I go with you? I just want to see him to make sure he’s okay, and then he’ll be all yours.”